Free Maohden Vol. 1 by Hideyuki Kikuchi Page A

cooperative lives, coexisting without abuse of their basic civil rights and without recourse to condescension on the one hand, or servility on the other.
    It should go without saying that “consideration” and “cooperation” and “charity” are the very foundations of human virtue. It is indeed sad to admit that these traits only persistently exist in certain species of animals.
    However, relationships arising out of such elemental factors should not be attributed to the reinforcing mechanisms of the particular environment, or to expressions of pity and mercy. Rather, the people themselves consider it altogether natural that they should be bound together in such a manner, and this, our investigations have revealed, makes the facts of the matter all the more unexpected and impressive.
    If nothing else, we wish the following to be taken away from our findings: while Shinjuku reveals to some an evil face as Demon City, at the same time, it shows to others the kind of goodness to which we should all aspire in the course of our daily lives.
    Descending Meiji Avenue, Setsura turned onto a wooded alleyway just before Kuyakusho Street. The meandering path of cobblestones known as Four Seasons Lane continued on for a hundred more feet before intersecting with Golden Gai, and then a cross street connecting Kuyakusho Street and Meiji Avenue.
    One of those little corners of Shinjuku well known to those tired of the ubiquitous concrete and the constant press of human flesh.
    But at this moment, in response to the light tread of Setsura’s feet, the cracks in the cobblestones seemed to widen a bit. Strange shadows—hard to say whether flora or fauna or a combination of both—peeked out, revealing the green dots of their eyes.
    Eyes brimming with hunger and loathing. There wasn’t a breeze, but the tree branches on the right and left abruptly swayed. The miasmas they breathed out swirled around Setsura and tightened into a whirlpool.
    Black dots covered his face. Without so much as a twitch of an eyebrow, they dropped to his feet. Setsura calmly continued on his way like one of the young people who had once come here seeking a cool stroll in the shade, before the lane had turned into a nest of tiny demons.
    Something crunched beneath his feet. A human femur. Looking more closely, skulls and ribs lay scattered around the roots of the trees. They weren’t left over from the Devil Quake. The scraps of tattered clothing were too new. These were the remains of unwary tourists or drunks who’d stumbled into this little corner of hell.
    “Four Seasons Lane” had since become known as “Man-Eater Alley.”
    Something that wasn’t a snake and wasn’t a tentacle crawled out of a hollow eye socket. An ordinary branch, it appeared at first look. But in fact, a trap to lure in the unsuspecting and set the minds of the unwary at ease. In the shadows cast by the rustling canopy, the undulating legs of a giant spider, a throbbing blob resembling a living liver and entrails, and other creatures crawled down the trunks of the trees and inched toward him.
    The dense and sickly fog roiled up around him. Setsura walked right through it. With every step he took, the gremlins sprang up and flew at him. Then twisting their bodies and baring their fangs, they shrieked and screamed and retreated.
    Ah, Setsura Aki, that beautiful genie. He stopped in the middle of the path, standing stock still as if finally affected by the poisonous vapors. Other presences shifted behind him, also sporting human forms. Two of them.
    Both were a good six feet tall. One had unusually broad shoulders. Standing next to each other, the two of them blocked the narrow lane, their overlapping shadows seeming to weigh down the foliage to their right and left.
    The circumstances soon became clear. The faint light falling on the man with the broad shoulders reflected off him with a hard glint. His body was covered with a skin of metal armor.
    The protuberances on his shoulders